


Gravitas

by Squikkums



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Because of course he does, He's damn good at it though, L Ricks are scumbags, M/M, Miami Morty makes an appearance, Newt is just doing his job, Not a romance, Pole Dancing, Starry AU, Starry Citadel AU, Starry Verse, Stripper, Stripper Rick - Freeform, The Starry Citadel, and he loves what he does, lap dance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squikkums/pseuds/Squikkums
Summary: Neutrino “Newt” Rick is known for working a gravity manipulating pole of his own design at the Lucky Star Dance Club, and while it always draws a big crowd, his regular patrons keep coming back to experience the wholly different sensation of weightlessness that the stripper provides.Newt works the Citadel as effortlessly as he works the pole, but his passion is for the dance he does when a client pays for services not knowing what they want and why.





	Gravitas

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [Left-Handed-Rick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Left_Handed_Rick/pseuds/Left_Handed_Rick), not only for welcoming me so completely into this beautiful 'verse but also for helping me bring this fic to life. You know how much I appreciate you.

Neutrino Rick had spent the last three and a half days holed up in his apartment, lost in a haze of alcohol and half-finished inventions. That wasn't exactly out of the ordinary for him. He wasn’t working from Sunday to Tuesday this week and, without some kind of distraction to keep him busy, his apartment was too big and too quiet. Too empty. During the work week Neutrino was content to spend his free time out of the house, willing it away in the bowels of the Citadel, but his usual extended weekend – the one that should have been a perk of his job – was too much of a good thing. The only way he'd found to counteract his restless boredom and the endless press of thoughts he didn't want to have was to throw himself into his work while drowning his mind in liquor. _And why not? It seemed to be the go-to strategy for countless other versions of himself. If it was good enough for them it was good enough for him._

He’d learned the hard way that he was no longer at his best when he didn’t have shit to do. Unfortunately, today he actually _did_ have shit to do. In fact, he was late for work, as per fucking usual. The problem with inventing all weekend was that he inevitably ended up getting caught up in an experiment and losing track of time. It was only the sight of the bright neon sign right outside his window – the one that made his apartment's rent so cheap – flickering to life that finally caught his attention. But as soon as he saw that irritating, flashing glow he leapt up from his desk, nearly knocking over his soldering iron in the process, and scrambled out of his labcoat, just grateful that he knew himself well enough to have showered in the morning as he rushed straight out the door.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck..." Rick cursed under his breath, moments later, as he dashed headlong through the crowd of white and blue-collar Ricks and Mortys that had flooded out of their offices and factories and businesses, descending on the Citadel's entertainment district like a horde of starving locusts, desperate to whet their multitude of appetites in the businesses that made a living off of their desperation. Luckily, he lived right on the edge of the Silver Palm district. The best thing about Rickview Apartments was that they were only a couple blocks away from his work, and it wasn't long until the neon glow of the Lucky Star’s sign was looming up over the surrounding bars and clubs.

Newt dodged down the alley next to the establishment without slowing, grabbing the handle of the door at the end of it to stop his forward momentum and then tapping his ID card against the sensor on it. He yanked it open impatiently, the second he heard a click as it unlocked, and then pounded down the dim hall inside, skidding to a halt in front of another door, this one dark and wooden, with a little gold plaque saying "Change Room – Employees Only" on it in a blocky black font.

One deep breath and a quick finger-comb of his long blue hair, brushing the unruly locks back out of his face and off his neck to hang down his back once more, and then Neutrino Rick opened the knob and stepped inside.

Jeers and catcalls from the other employees greeted him, but that was standard operating procedure with anyone who was more than ten minutes late, and he paid them no mind, just giving the room the finger as he strode over to his table.

"You're on in ten minutes, G-674. I think this is a new record for you. Or should I say a new low?"

Rick looked up, hands above his head, halfway through stripping out of his backless green sweater, and stuck his tongue out at the blonde, over-tanned Morty who was leaned arrogantly against the table beside his. The kid was watching him over a pair of sunglasses while sucking on a lollipop, and he grinned meanly and bit down on the sucker with his teeth, cracking it in half, when he caught his eye.

"I'll make it," Neutrino growled as he tossed his sweater on his chair and undid his belt. "I don't go through a bucket of body glitter a night, unlike _some_ people. Anyway, what're you gonna do, tell your _Daddy_ on me?"

As he spoke he stripped out of his jeans and underwear at the same time, all while stepping inelegantly out of his shoes. Next, he kicked the whole bundle under the chair and then hopped from foot to foot, pulling his socks off and dropping them on top of his pile of clothes, and then he glanced around uncertainly as he tried to decide which parts of his usual routine he could get away with skipping.

His neighbour laughed at his hesitance, and he glared at him and then stepped up to his desk, whacking it with his fist and then snapping his fingers, watching as a little robot whirred to startled life and flew up to hover by his head. Rick stepped away from his desk, his robot flying after him, and then took a deep breath, closed his eyes and stood, one arm out and one holding his hair up on top of his head with his legs spread wide, as his creation flew circles around him, spraying him down with a fine, even mist. It only took a moment. By the time the little robot had landed back on the desk Rick's skin was dry but gleaming, and ever-so-slightly shimmery.

He was too busy scrambling into a change of clothes to enjoy his co-worker's jealous groan, though. A black garter belt was first, followed by a rather cliché pair of fishnet stockings. _But who was he to argue with what worked? That was the premise of his whole costume, after all,_ he thought as he hopped from foot to foot, rolling the irritatingly delicate things up and fastening them to the garter belt. Next came a neon green thong and then a pair of black leather pants with thin straps crisscrossing up the gap of bare skin that ran from hip to ankle down each side.

"If I _don't_ tell my Daddy, will you let me use that robot?" Rick heard the wheedling question as he tugged the familiar, low-cut blue tank top that so many Ricks wore during their Flesh Curtains days on over his head, tucking it into his pants at the front and then reaching out for a belt rather than looking at the Morty beside him.

"Pfft, no," he scoffed as he took a gulp from a flask in his desk, feeling it right away as a low buzz of arousal thrummed through him. The aphrodisiac was his own formula, and it rocked his system just like it always did, leaving his pupils blown, his breath short, and his cock hard, "because you're n-not a snitch, Miami," Rick continued, panting a little. "You're not gonna tell him whether I let you gum my robot up with glitter o-or not. Plus, even if you did, fuck him. That guy is an asshole."

Neutrino shivered. He was too flushed and harried to pay attention to the way Miami Morty had gone still next to him, and in too much of a rush to stop moving, so he just buckled his gaudy skull belt, before snatching up a pair of bright green platform stiletto heels – his favourite pair, the ones with a shimmery swirl of clear neon running through them – and plopped down in his chair, ignoring the tension that inevitably came up whenever he insulted his co-worker’s sugar daddy… _or whatever that guy was to him._

He pulled his shoes on and then dug into his makeup bag after giving the clock above the door a harried glance. Behind him, Miami was slowly thawing out, and he heard him give long-suffering sigh. He was glad, but he ignored Morty as he moved around, concentrating on his bronzer, until he felt a touch against his hair. It made him jump as he met the other man's eyes over his shoulder in his mirror, and he got whacked in the head with his own hairbrush for the trouble.

"Sit still, Newt," Miami Morty bitched, brush and hairspray in hand, "you're a- a fucking mess. My hair always looks better than yours anyway."

That was debatable, and normally something he'd argue, but the brush felt as nice as his nickname did after that brief, tense silence, and he really was running late. So Neutrino Rick just gave his coworker a quiet smile of thanks and then leaned in to do his eyes.

With less than a minute to spare Rick called himself good enough, jumping out of the chair to Miami's fervent protests as he tried to continue fixing his hair. It looked fine, though – sleek and smooth while still being feathery and touchable and just a little bit tousled from Morty not being able to finish perfecting it.

"It's great, thanks!" Rick yelled as he grabbed the leather jacket that would pull his costume together, trying to dash out of the room, only to get pelted in the chest with his o-ring collar. He fumbled the thick band of leather, nearly dropping his coat, and juggled both as he called another, more sheepish, thank you. Then he dashed out of the room, finally swinging his jacket on as he skidded and teetered down the hall on his heels. He made it to the curtain just on time, buckling his collar in place and nodding to the beefy Rick standing guard next to it, right as a female Rick stepped through in a thong and a pair of heels, kicking a pile of clothes down ahead of her, with a crumpled wad of bills in her fist and many more shoved into the waistband of her underwear. Behind her, Rick could hear the sound of the MC’s voice booming out in the room behind them, drumming up the crowd with a familiar introduction.

_"Up next, the Rick you’ve all been waiting for. Our night’s headliner needs no introduction – their pole spins a certain reputation ‘round the Citadel..."_

"Hey, Vic, good haul?" Rick asked, bouncing excitedly on his toes.

"Ye-EAah, alright," Vic burped, speaking over the voice of the MC, "they're pretty rowdy. Full house. Warmed ‘em up for you, hun."

" _...He’s hard and ready to take you desperate fuckers on and send you straight to heaven, but I’ma let you in on a club secret – He’s a vet who loves deep pockets; if you’re one of those Ricks who's packin’, don’t hold out, cause he wants to get you flying high.”_

"You're a peach," Rick answered as one of the other bouncers leaned through, saw him, and gave him a nod before ducking back out. Adrenaline flooded his system as the MC fell silent and the low hum of _Levitate by Hollywood Undead_ filled the air.

He jumped from foot to foot eagerly, shook out his shoulders and, as the first words pounded through the room, he knocked the curtains wide and strutted onto the stage, hips moving to the beat of the music as his eyes swept across the crowd.

It was a big one. There were a lot of Ricks here, and even a few Mortys further back, wearing suits or gaudy purple clothes, drinking and posturing. A lot of the Ricks were close to the stage, drinks resting on the lower bar below his platform, their eyes locked on him. Every available seat was full, and there were Ricks standing behind them too. Most of the ones who were standing were familiar to him – regular patrons of his that had tables somewhere further back in the bar and had come up to the front just for his performance. Rick caught their eyes, giving them a little smirk or a grin or licking his lips as he remembered each of them.

He made it to the front of the stage in no time, grabbing the pole in the middle of the flared-out central platform, and spun just enough to put his back against the smooth, cool metal so he could backslide down to his knees, thighs spread. He arched his body, arms out, eyes closed, panting and still as he revelled in the feeling of all the eyes in the room on him for a few beats. Then he grinned a little wider and pushed himself a little higher, shoulders back, and let his leather jacket slide down and off his arms to the soundtrack of his audience's cheers and hollers and whistles.  
Rick tossed the jacket behind him, snapping as he did and feeling the whoosh of the anti-gravity kicking in in response and catching the leather, floating it back toward the curtain.

But he didn't watch it. He was gazing down, instead, at the first, brave Rick of the night to reach out, money in hand, and grab hold of his pants, pushing his offering in deep as his fingers slid past the tight leather. Rick thrust his hips up against the other man's hand, rubbing his covered cock against the Rick's wrist, and then pulled the hand out, trailing his fingers along his arm teasingly. Then he arched his body up off the floor, rising onto his knees, and shoved the dazed looking Rick back down into his seat before reaching up, grabbing the pole, and pulling himself into a pinup stag combo as the music rose up with him.

He spun and twirled through the easy, familiar beginning of his routine, loving how giddy and turned on he felt as his muscles flexed and strained. But before long he felt the music ramping up, and his stomach clenched in excitement along with it. As the lyrics built to the chorus of the song he climbed up to the top of the pole. Then hooked one knee firmly around it, anchoring himself in place, and subtly triggered his biometrics – the ones that ensured only he could use his anti-gravity tech.

This was what made his performance unique, what drew the kind of crowds he always got around the edges of the stage, and Rick grinned, giddy, as he prepared to milk it for all it was worth.

He let go with his hands first, sliding his palms up his chest as he arched his body back, slow, to match the music. He could feel the thrum of his anti-gravity field singing through his body, and he leaned into the invisible cushion of weightlessness as he slid his other leg away from the smooth metal, letting the toe of his stiletto dangle above the ground. Then the music rose and Rick spun himself out in a fall down the pole, twirling his body faster and faster as he let himself fly out away from the metal, and just barely catching his body with his crossed ankles as he spun away, arms wide, long hair swirling, in an impossible maneuver.

He only held the pose for a few spins before anchoring one ankle in place and sliding his other leg up the length of the pole, bringing himself in close once more as he slid his body into a modified cupid, doing the move upside down just because he could, and revelling in the stretch of his muscles as he pulled himself nearly into the splits against the smooth metal to do it. Then he arched backwards, grabbed the pole with one hand, and he was off, cycling through gravity defying moves like they were child's play, practically flying through the air as he owned the stage, long hair flying out around him in his anti-gravity field as he drew every eye in the club.

_You know, I can take you straight to heaven if you let me,_  
_You know I, I can make your body levitate if you let me,_

He was showing off, slipping fluidly through unattainable moves with weightless ease. He did the russian splits against the middle of the pole and then flipped backwards into a tabletop, planking out and supporting his negligible weight with just his arms. He transitioned smoothly into an allegra, back arched around the pole and one leg curled back so he could anchor himself in place while the other arched up over his head. Then he spun and climbed his way up the pole again, showy and dramatic, before crossing his ankles around the metal and letting himself hang as he spun down the length of the pole in a nose breaker drop, stopping inches from the ground and then dismounting smoothly, laying out on the stage before arching up onto his knees again, panting as he felt gravity take hold of him once more as soon as he lost contact with the pole.

Rick slid his hands through his hair and down his throat, tugging on the thick leather belted around his neck and then teasing his way down his chest and stomach, gazing around at his captive audience as he did. Then he slid his hands down his body and took off his belt, nice and slow, catching one of his favourite customers' eyes and giving him a flirtatious little wink as he did. He kept a tight hold of the man's gaze as he tossed the leather up into the anti-gravity stream that had carried his jacket away, and then crawled across the stage toward him, earning a second hand down his pants for his trouble, along with a few others reaching out to him, bills waving to catch his attention.

He crawled along the edge of the stage, letting Ricks reach out and shove money into his pants and his shirt, enjoying the crinkle of paper against his erection and the brush of hands against his hips and thighs as he moved.

He toyed with the money that had been thrown on the stage while he'd been floating above it, tucking it into the bands around his arms and his clothes, and arching into his hands as he rubbed them along his skin, but all the while he was gathering it up steadily. He knelt in the middle of the stage once he'd collected a fairly respectable pile of bills, picking up two handfuls and rubbing them up his chest as he reached for his shirt. Then he grabbed the edges and tore the thin fabric off his chest, thrilling at the rush of excitement and noise that followed as money spilled from his fingers and the tatters of his shirt.

Rick smiled, exultant, and leapt to his feet, strutting and dancing around the platform. Fans were reaching in from all sides now, giving him less space to move, and he luxuriated in the attention, flirting along the edges of their fingertips, letting them reach out and brush against him for a moment before dancing out of reach. The ones he'd coaxed into standing he let reach up and shove money down his pants, let them touch for longer, but he never stilled. He was too full of energy, too eager to dance and show off and play under the pulsing lights and the pounding music. Hips swinging, hair flying, body glistening, money pouring in.

_Fuck, he loved his job._

As the music built toward the chorus once more Rick dialed back on his indulgence and focused on untying the laces on his pants. A few of his most loyal regulars started to cheer and jostle for position at the edges of the stage, familiar enough with his various outfits to know what was coming. They all had big, enticing bills in-hand, trying to coax him over, and Rick smirked, writhing to the music as he scanned the crowd, making a show of flirtatiously pointing between the most enthusiastic of his choices as he eyed them up speculatively.

Option number one, he decided, was one of his regulars – Rick L-5566, who'd been here and bought a dance from him for nearly his last dozen shifts. He owed the guy a treat. Option two, though... that was more fun. Option two was the bold newcomer Rick who'd reached out and touched him at the beginning of the performance, and who was now holding out almost double what his neighbours were to try and catch his attention. He was _eager,_ and Rick was eager to keep those stars in his eyes. He reached out to L-5566 first though, grabbing his forearm and pulling him up onto the stage.

"Hey, boss," Rick murmured into the other Rick's ear as he rubbed up against him in passing, moving across the stage and zeroing in on the newbie, even as he took careful note of the others who'd been trying to catch his attention.

The newcomer Rick's eyes got huge when he pointed to him, and he pointed to his own chest adorably in response, making Rick smile. He offered his hand, palm up, to this one, helping him up with a much more solicitous grip. His newcomer was staring at his body with his mouth open wide, his eyes flickering across his chest and down to his covered hard-on, to his hips where the lacing he'd untied was steadily unravelling, and then back over his bare skin once more in a flattering little circle. He was swaying a little to the music, and while his appearance was standard, same as L-5566, he was wearing a dark blue button-up with a darker blue tie, matching slacks, and the familiar regulation belt and shoes that Neutrino had seen up-close often enough to recognize as standard issue Citadel Police Force gear. CPF officers were fairly regular customers at the Lucky Star, and this one was barely out of uniform. It was only the lack of badge and vest, along with all of those fun accessories, that kept him from drawing more attention to himself. But up close he was unmistakably an officer of the law, and Neutrino Rick smirked as he looked him over, thinking about how much fun he was going to have toying with the shy, green-looking officer. He grabbed ahold of his tie, using it to drag the other Rick a few steps closer.

"Don't look so nervous, pet. Just do what I say, you'll be fine."

Rick licked his lips after whispering into his newest target's ear, enjoying the way the cop shivered for him. Then he pulled back and paid attention to the crowd once more. He swayed his hips, hands grabbing onto the cords on either side of his pants, and then stretched them out toward his two "assistants". L-5566 grabbed the cords right away, touching his hand confidently. It drew Rick's attention long enough for him to offer up a lazy smile, but he was riding high on the sound of the crowd's excitement now, and not even the way his rookie fumbled when their fingers touched could distract him for long. The chorus was coming to a close by now, and Rick lifted his hands above his head, building up the sound of the crowd and then bringing his hand down sharply.

"Pull!" he shouted over the roar of the audience, and then grunted as his body was jerked sharply toward L-5566. His rookie police officer jumped, pulling a half-second later, and yanked him back in the other direction before a crack like a whip sounded and the cords snapped all the way down his legs in two vicious lines of sharp pain. But Rick barely even acknowledged that. He was too focused on tugging his leather pants off, the material falling open like a flower around his legs and then whipping out from between them as he yanked them up and above his head, giving them a twirl to thunderous applause and hoots and hollers, and then tossing the leather back behind him.

Bills were swirling through the air around him, but he didn't give them more than a thought this time, and even then only to acknowledge how excellently all that money down his pants had worked out. He'd designed the artificial gravity on this stage, after all. He was well aware of exactly where every fluttering piece of paper was going to go, and he'd done this enough times to be certain he wouldn't lose a single one.

Anyway, it looked like his little rookie's eyes were about to fall out of his head, which was much more interesting. _This one was fun._ Rick hoped he stuck around. He was enjoying the sight of stunned want on the Rick’s face as he strutted over to him, and he enjoyed reaching out, lifting his chin up and giving the shy little officer a dangerous smile as he pushed his back to the pole as well.

"Don't move, pet. I'll make it worth your while, I promise. But for now I just want you to watch. I like feeling your eyes on me," Neutrino murmured into his ear, brushing his body up against him and feeling a burst of self-satisfaction when he felt how hard his rookie was.

But he ignored him after that, taking a quick spin around the stage to give all the Ricks around the edges a chance to admire him and to let a few tuck money into the bands around his arms and legs and into the tops of his thigh-high tights, nameless fingers lingering and trailing and touching as he moved past.

Then he strode up to L-5566, resting a hand on his chest... and shivered when the other man grabbed onto his hips in return.

 _That_ was going to make the rest of his night a lot more interesting. That wasn't a flirtatious little brush of fingers, paid for with a bill, from the Ricks on the edges of the stage. L-5566 paid _a lot_ of money for the right to touch him, even just innocently like this, but that was normally reserved for private lap dances only – away from the watchful eyes of the audience.

It was a house rule that customers couldn't touch the dancers, not on stage, but Rick shook his head at the bouncer who was already making his way toward the front of the platform and then looked back at L-5566 as he started to dance against the problematic man. This customer was worth far too much money to lose him, not to something as ridiculous as L-5566's arrogance and jealousy.

"Now, that's just mean. You know other Ricks aren't allowed to have what you have," he whispered, voice soft and pouty and intimate between them.

"Anyway, don't be jealous, boss. I've gotta work, and I'm very good at my job. You _know_ I can't pay attention to just you when I'm up here. I can't relax when we're not alone."

L-5566 liked that. He liked the idea that, when he bought time with him for a private dance, he was giving Rick a break from work, where he could be himself and do what he wanted and they could relax and enjoy themselves together. Only what they enjoyed together was him giving L-5566 a dirty, grinding lap dance while the other man paid through the nose for the privilege of being able to hold him as he did it.

And he _didn't_ like the idea of opening him up to being groped by customers all night, or possibly to the realization that he'd just advertised to the whole crowd that Neutrino Rick was open to negotiation once they were alone, regardless of what the rules at the Lucky Star were, provided you paid enough money. Rick kept his expression coy as he tried to figure out which it was, just how far into their little fantasy roleplay L-5566 was actually sunk, and whether he'd be needing to cut the other man loose sooner rather than later. If L-5566 couldn't keep his head on straight then he wasn't worth the risk, no matter how much he was willing to pay. But a second later his words worked, and the hands on his sides slipped away.

"Okay, boss, how do you want me?" Neutrino asked casually, ignoring how close L-5566 had come to getting kicked out, and the way many of the eyes on him felt much more calculating and speculative than they had a moment ago. He could already tell that he was going to have a very challenging evening, but he might also have an incredibly profitable one if he played his cards right.

"A chair," L-5566 said, and Rick responded with a wicked grin and a sharp whistle, watching as a chair was passed up onto the stage by one of the bouncers and placed behind the other man.

Whether L-5566 knew it or not, he was giving him exactly the opportunity he needed to _really_ play his cards right – to show off the goods to the rest of the clientele. His primary source of income was private lap dances after all, so he rewarded his longtime customer with a shove to the chest that knocked him into sitting heavily in the chair before pausing dramatically as the DJ transitioned his music from the end of his first song seamlessly into his second one: _I Get Off by Halestorm._

Strutting around behind the chair, Rick enjoyed the way L-5566 twisted to watch him and the way his rookie did too, arms still obediently above his head on the pole behind him. He didn't let L-5566 keep looking, though. Instead, he took his head in his hands and turned it forward, and then slid his arms down L-5566's chest as he writhed for the crowd, shaking his hair out and arching his back to really show off his barely covered ass.

He spun and undulated his way around his customer, slipping his leg up in between the other man's, resting his heel on the chair, arching his body over his lap and giving a full-body writhe that just barely brushed up against him... just showing off, playing with him and enjoying himself until L-5566 was starting to look _hungry._ Then he twirled in front of him and pushed his legs apart slow, before turning away and spreading his own legs as well as he dropped down to rest his hands on the stage in front of him. He swirled his hair for the audience as he shifted his hips for L-5566, giving him a show, and then arched back up and slid into the other man's lap.

From there he stopped teasing and started to work his hips and rub his ass against L-5566's obvious erection, not toying with his longtime client like he would with someone he was less familiar with. He grinned smugly when he felt needy hands grip his hips in response and heard a shocked, desperate gasp in his ear, and he tossed his hair and touched his own chest, looking out at the audience as he writhed.

All eyes were on him, just the way he liked it, and he gazed around, lapping up those longing, hungry looks as he rubbed his hands up the sides of his neck and into his hair. But this wasn't a lap dance, no matter what it looked like – it was a free sample for his audience, so he didn't linger. He just rolled his hips in L-5566’s lap, giving him one last burst of sensation before he slipped off and down onto his hands again, feeling the other man's grip tighten on his hips before reluctantly letting him go so that Rick could bob and weave his ass in front of his face once more. Then he wriggled his way back up to his feet and twisted back around to face his customer, enjoying his flushed face and glazed eyes, and offered him a hand up off the chair.

The sound of the audience was loud enough to nearly drown out the music as he helped L-5566 to his feet and smiled down at his obviously tented pants, but he still heard his softly murmured, "thank you".

That earned L-5566 a more genuine smile, but it was the final tip the other man tucked into his tights that got him a lingering kiss on the hand as Rick helped him off the stage.

Then he spun excitedly around the edges of the platform before turning a predatory gaze on the Rick he'd left holding onto the pole into the middle of the stage. The man still had one hand obediently clutching the pole above him, but his other hand was held half-out between them, clutching a bill nervously. Rick stalked across the space between them, snatching the bill out of his hand and then slapping his hand back up to the pole and watching, pleased, as the Rick jumped and grabbed on again. His alacrity left Neutrino feeling magnanimous enough to tuck the slip of paper into his new client's pants, leaving most of it sticking out, rather than making him hold it in his teeth.

"I thought I told you not to move, pet?" he murmured, giving the nervous looking man a glare and thrilling at the stricken expression he got in return. Having the police officer so tightly wrapped around his finger so quickly made Newt feel wonderfully dominant, and he tossed his hair back and looked around at the audience, gauging just how much they were enjoying the show, before turning a glare back on his timid little rookie.

"I- I- I-I-I–" his client stuttered, but Rick pressed a finger to his lips.

"Hush. I'm sure you'll make it up to me," he interrupted, before getting back to work.

He used this Rick as more of an extension of the pole than anything – a prop for him to writhe and undulate and rub up against, only this prop was squirming and watching him and making deliciously embarrassed sounds while looking enough like every single person in the audience to drive all their imaginations wild. Neutrino Rick revelled in the fantasy he was creating for the people watching him as he worked his way down his doppelganger's body and then plucked the bill out of his pants with his teeth, before squirming back up him. That, and making it look like he was rubbing up against the other man much more than he was as he did it.

He grinned into the officer's flushed face, money between his teeth, and grabbed the pole behind him with one hand as he rolled his hips.

"I-I've got more m-money," his little rookie finally managed to blurt, and Rick pulled the bill out of his mouth so he could laugh, low and silky.

"That's good, pet. I was hoping you'd want time with me alone after this. You do want that, don't you?"

A rapid nod, and Rick's smile grew.

 _"Good._ Grab me after my set then. I'll watch for you."

Rick pulled the other man's hands off the pole after grinding up against him once more and led him to the edge of the stage, a hand on his elbow as the rookie wobbled his way back down into his chair to the amusement of the Ricks around him.

Then he slid down to his knees and started to pay attention to the rest of his audience, letting them reach out and touch him briefly as long as they had money in hand while he gave them an up-close and personal show, working his way slowly around the edges of the stage while faux-casually gathering up the money around the edges before slinking over to the pole and spinning back up around it for his finale.

A subtle command revved up the anti-gravity again, giving him just enough weightlessness to pull off some truly remarkable acrobatics as he showed off for the audience, and Rick became absorbed in his movements, enjoying the strain and effort and skill involved. But before he knew it his second song was ending and he suddenly found himself panting and grinning in the middle of the stage as the MC called his name, urging the audience to cheer for him.

Neutrino Rick shook off the worst of his restless energy and knelt, gathering up the last couple bills he'd missed, and getting one last bill tucked in his underwear for his trouble, and then he strutted back to the curtain and gave the audience one last smirk, cupping a hand around his crotch lewdly and giving them all the finger in parting. Then he kicked his own clothes down the stairs and stepped down after them, exhilaration thrumming through him and making the smile he gave Miami Morty, who was waiting to go on next, look manic and more than a little crazy.

Tonight was going to be a good night, Rick G-674 could feel it in his bones. He couldn't fucking  _wait_ to get out on the floor so he could start working the crowd, so he could take his rookie for a test drive, see how much interest he'd drummed up with his little showcase, and so he could find out just how much of his time L-5566 would be willing to buy to keep him away from all of that extra interest.

He might hate the Citadel, but shit, did he _ever_ love working it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next, Neutrino Rick gets up close and personal with our shy little Cop Rick (co-written with the wonderful Left-Handed-Rick).


End file.
